Tuesday, August 28, 2012

When Trevor and I first started dating we once went out to watch some chick flick in a movie theater. It was something along the lines of "Failure to Launch" or one of those Matthew McConnaughy / Kate Hudson blockbusters. At one point in the movie, the main actress who has been dating the main actor for x many years, gives the guy an ultimatum..... "Let's get married by the end of the year, or I'm dumping you." Right after this scene Trevor leans over and whispers in my ear.... "Don't ever do that to me...." ... Don't ever do what? Don't ever dump you? Don't ever threaten to dump you? How about you don't ever dump me!?Maybe he meant don't ever ask him to marry me? I thought about it awhile during the movie, but decided I didn't really care what he meant by it. I'm not planning on dumping him and I didn't want to get married at 21 anyways.

That was 7.5 years ago. I'm still not planning on dumping him.

Now it is almost time for Trevor to apply to a full-time job. Our relationship is almost spanning a decade. Trevor already refers to me as his "wife" in certain professional settings to give him some extra street-cred (or to open up our house hunting options). Although I despise the word "fiance," and "husband" sounds even freakier...after going to about 5,000 other people's weddings, and constantly getting the "when's it your turn?" questions...it is probably about time to upgrade the facebook status.... (Note: Trevor has upgraded his status to "engaged" as I write this post....still sounds weird).

While alone in a smoky hotel room in Kassel, Germany in February of this year, I thought to myself "if Trevor doesn't propose any changes to our relationships, I will have to take the reigns into my own hands by the end of the year." (I say this now, but who knows if I was serious?..no one ever will!). The idea got into my head because it was February 29th ... leap year. And in leap year, it is traditionally socially acceptable for women to ask men to marry them. Not that I need social acceptance for anything in life, but it would make for an interesting blog post...

Luckily, I didn't have to purchase a rifle and threaten Trevor's life, for the slickster actually had plans of his own...﻿

Sometime last year my dear old mother who wants nothing more in the world than grandbabies and lots of them, slyly forced her old wedding ring upon me to use for my eventual engagement. Not wanting to pressure Trevor (just yet) and still possibly considering my leap year surprise, I stuck the little box of sparkly diamonds in my secret drawer that I thought Trevor had completely forgotten about. I did mention to Trevor that my baby-obsessed mother had tried to give me the ring at an attempt to catalyze a wedding to see his response. He did well to conceal his enthusiasm with a roll of the eyes and a avoidance of the topic ever since.

A few months ago, Trevor called my little sister, who we affectionately refer to as Weener, to see if my mother was serious about the ring thing. My sister said, "Hellz yes mom's serious! When ya gonna do it?!" So Trevor calls Mary Ellen to tell her about his plans to propose. My mom is ecstatic. Trevor then awkwardly brings up the ring and mentions that he will be in NJ soon and that it might be a good time to pick up the ring. My mom says "Sure go ahead and use it. But umm, I don't have the ring. Julie didn't tell you?" "No..." replied a confused Trevor. "Julie has the ring! She took it with her to Santa Barbara! It's in a little red box."

Trevor immediately thinks about my little secret drawer that I think he has completely forgotten about. So in the very first place he looks, there he finds my hidden treasure. I can only imagine what he thought my plans were. He leaves the ring in there thinking "Montana will be a good place to get engaged." But if he took it too early, he knew I might notice and catch on to his plan. On the morning of our departure we are both in the car in the front of the Santa Barbara house listening to "On the Road to Nowhere" by David Byrne when he says he forgot his hat and runs back into the house. This is not out of the ordinary as at least one of us forgets something everytime we try to leave for anywhere. Now he did come out with his hat that he "forgot." But what he was really looking for was the ring. And to his disappointment (but not to his surprise) it was gone. I had packed it for Montana.

Out in Bozeman, Trevor went on wild goose hunt #2 to find the hidden ring. Mother is now silent to me about getting married but is now (unbeknownst to me) harrassing Trevor whenever she can.

Mom: "Trevor, when are you gonna do it?!?!?!"

Trevor: "Soon, I just got to find the ring."

Mom: "Forget the ring!! You don't even need a ring! Just do it!!"

Trevor eventually finds the ring that was hidden in my suitcase zipper pocket tucked away in the closet. He takes it to the jeweler to clean it up and planned on proposing before we went back to Jersey. But it wasn't ready in time.

Back in Jersey I caught my last bouquet at the wedding of our good friends, Matt and Renata. Trevor tried his damnedest to go for the garter belt that he nearly wiped out the entire first row of innocent bystanders as he slipped in his tuxedo shoes and went flying across the dance floor. "Safe at home!" yelled the MC. But alas, no garter belt was to be won that day. Our friend Jesse inadvertently picks up the garter belt that slipped through the cracks of the sweaty groomsmen and tries handing it to Trevor. The MC intercepts him and says "No, no you can't give it away....what's your name?" Jesse unwillingly says "Trevor." His friends are constantly berating him for picking it up.

On the plus side, that's the last time I have to sit in the chair and have a guy put a garter belt on my leg. For the record I will be opting out of that option for our wedding. But I would also like to start the tradition of throwing something for all the married ladies. Why should single ladies have all the fun?

We get back from the wedding and our good friend from Santa Barbara, affectionately referred to as our third wheel, Kevin is visiting us in Montana and has already made himself at home in our studio cabin in the woods. The next day Trevor's sister and brother-in-law come for a visit. Overcrowded in the canyon, we decide to take up an offer from one of Trevor's professors to use his cabin in the woods.

On the drive out to the cabin we stop by Norris Hot Springs, a natural geothermal pool about 40 minutes south of Bozeman. Trevor intended to propose here, but after arriving decided it wasn't the right setting...too many people.

Maybe if this lady wasn't there staring him down he would have proposed at the hot springs....

We continue on towards the cabin and stop at a grocery store that had a walk-in refrigerator full of beer. Maybe that's what got him back into marriage mode again:

Kevin joining Trevor in the beer cave

Out in the parking lot we found this car with the license plate reading "Mooman." The car is full of puppies that look really disgustingly thilthy (a word I made up for when 'filthy' just doesn't cut it). Their owner wasn't that much more pleasant. When she saw us looking at her pups she said "They only look like they think they've been abused." To which Kevin said, "What?!"

Back on the road to the cabin....

We missed the turn and drove maybe 5 miles too far, but we came upon this lake with all these trees dead in the water. The lake is called Earthquake lake and back in 1959 a 7.5 magnitude earthquake created a landslide and dammed up the river. And the next day the river said "I'll be dammed!"

We saw a bald eagle perched on one of the trees and found this rotting carcus nearby:

It was a good stop. Trevor and I at Earthquake lake:
﻿

Trevor knows he is going to propose. I do not.

We retrace our steps back up the highway and eventually find the turn we need: Three Dollar Bridge. Right after I took this photo of Three Dollar Bridge, I found three $1 bills that one of us must have tucked up in the sun visor of the car at some point in the past. Coincidence? I think not.

Just a sign that that we were headed in the right direction.

Then we arrived at the cabin 40 miles south of Ennis, MT:

We watched the impending storm come in:

We played with some dead bones and antlers and big bugs:

At this point Trevor has decided he is going to propose here. He tries to get me alone. "Hey Julie let's go check out what's over here?!" But everyone else follows as well....

Then Trevor says "Hey Julie, come over here and check out this birdhouse!" But the birdhouse is out in the field and at this point it's starting to lightning so I start hooting and hollering at him to "get the heck over here before you freakin kill yourself!"

Then we are out on the deck taking pictures of lightning:

But the lightning is starting to get close and the wind is starting to pick up so we all go inside. Once inside Trevor says "Hey want to go take a few more pictures of lightning?" I say "Yea! let's go."

Back on the deck Trevor starts complaining about his gnarly in-grown toenail that has been pestering him for weeks and says "look you gotta see it" or something like that and by the time I turn around he's down on his knee. For a second I am looking past the ring to try to check out what puss or blisters he's got coming out of his nasty toes, and alas obstructing my view is a shiny sparkly engagement ring that I've been hiding for months that I had no idea he even knew I had! Skip the mushy gushy stuff, "Yes, I'll marry you, now tell me how the heck you got that ring!!!!!"

Seconds later, in pure third wheel fashion, Kevin appropriately walks out the front door of the cabin. He looks at us like a deer in the headlights and immediately fumbles to get back inside like "Uhhh sorry, sorry, did I just interrupt something?..." Kevin has now achieved the highest honor of any third wheel...

Complimentary "Engagement Photoshoot:"

Did you hear about that PhD student who went to Montana? He is outstanding in his field.

This is how I always envisioned it.

If it weren't for Kevin, we might have all fit comfortably in the Bear Canyon cabin and might never have made it out here.